


can't take my eyes off of you

by margosfairyeye (Skittery)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skittery/pseuds/margosfairyeye
Summary: Geralt sucks in a breath as Jaskier lets out an indecent moan.  He shouldn’t be here, he realizes, he shouldn’t be looking at this, shouldn’t be watching this man run his fingers along Jaskier’s cock in this alley.  But he can’t make himself leave.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 342





	can't take my eyes off of you

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [zade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zade) for being the best and also most patient beta.

Geralt watches them leave the bar with trepidation. He’s been watching Jaskier all night, because even though he’s more than well aware that it’s absolutely not his damn job to watch the bard, he still feels like Jaskier is his responsibility. Jaskier is loud, and demands attention, and has no sense of when to stop talking to strangers, and attracts trouble like a damn fly to honey. 

Geralt would be much happier to simply sit in the corner of this slightly grimy inn, nursing a shitty pint of local whatever until he’s had at least enough to help him sleep. Except. 

Except Jaskier is here with him. Jaskier, who is exuberant and who can’t turn down an opportunity to play for an audience, even if the audience is made up of idiots and assholes from this backwater town. Jaskier, who gets under Geralt’s skin at every moment, who annoys him and distracts him from the actual important work he has to do, who puts himself in danger and needs saving and who Geralt can absolutely not say no to for whatever reason. Jaskier, who wanted to retire to their room an hour ago before Geralt brushed him off, not that he feels guilty. 

Jaskier, who Geralt feels responsible for, because if he got hurt Geralt might lose his mind. And who is now possibly in danger. 

Geralt waits a moment, then sighs and lifts himself from the table. He’d been watching Jaskier since his set ended—watching Jaskier get plied with drinks and conversation, watching him get cornered by a particularly rough-looking man, watching as the man dropped unasked for touches onto Jaskier and then all but dragged him out of the inn, thinking apparently that they could disappear into a crowd of people leaving at the same moment. 

Geralt has absolutely no doubts that Jaskier is about to be robbed or worse, and he wouldn’t care except that Jaskier is supposed to pay for their room. He doesn’t even let himself think about the worse option as he pushes through the crowd of people to get outside. 

The night is cool against Geralt’s skin. The smell of beer and cooking meat is fainter here than inside the inn, but still somehow pervasive. Geralt is glad they’re leaving tomorrow. 

He pauses, listening for Jaskier’s voice, for his laugh; the good part about the bard being loud is that Geralt never has trouble finding him. 

It’s not that Geralt actually dislikes Jaskier all that much, it’s just that he dislikes some of the things that come with Jaskier. Like the constant chatter, and the way his chest clenches uncomfortably when Jaskier inevitably gets himself into danger, or when someone offhandedly mentions  _ his _ bard. Like the way Jaskier always smells distracting. Like the way Geralt’s body pulses with arousal whenever Jaskier sits or steps too near, whenever they’re lying in a shared room or camp, whenever Geralt lets his guard down even a little bit.

It’s strange. When Geralt visits whorehouses, it’s purely functional, giving into his body’s needs; with Yennefer, it was uncontrollable, bought with magic. With Jaskier, he wants something else, something squarely in the middle. It’s desire built on an actual friendship, reluctant as Geralt would be to admit that. It’s strange, and Geralt doesn’t like strange things that he can’t fight. 

He hears Jaskier then, groaning like he’s in pain. Geralt rushes around the side of the building, into an alley that runs off into darkness. It takes a moment for Geralt’s eyes to adjust enough that he can see them, halfway down the alley, Jaskier pressed back against the bricks of the wall, making small noises. Geralt can see the other man standing in front of Jaskier, and while he can’t clearly see what’s happening between them, he can imagine how Jaskier is likely being beaten and robbed. It makes Geralt’s blood boil. 

He moves into the alley, pausing before he reaches them, afraid that if he rushes in it would just result in more injury to Jaskier. He presses against the wall opposite them, sinking into shadow, partially hidden by a stack of boxes. 

He hears Jaskier’s sound again. He can see Jaskier’s face, intense and contorted, and he can see the other man’s hand pressed up against Jaskier. Is there a knife in his hand? Geralt’s hand goes to his sword. 

And then it immediately drops away when Jaskier closes his eyes and lets out a noise that sounds less like being stabbed and more like pleasure. Geralt peers closer and realizes that it’s not a knife being pressed against Jaskier’s body. He can see now that Jaskier’s trousers are open, that his cock is out, and the stranger is stroking him slowly, crowding Jaskier back against the wall. 

Geralt sucks in a breath as Jaskier lets out an indecent moan. He shouldn’t be here, he realizes, he shouldn’t be looking at this, shouldn’t be watching this man run his fingers along Jaskier’s cock in this alley. But he can’t make himself leave. 

Instead he watches as Jaskier throws his head back and moans, as the stranger sucks bruises onto his neck, as Jaskier’s hips start to pump towards him. In spite of himself, Geralt feels his dick get hard as he listens to Jaskier’s sounds, as he watches the stranger stroke Jaskier. Fuck. He should leave.

The stranger leans in, whispering into Jaskier’s ear, and Jaskier laughs throatily. “Fuck, yes,” Jaskier says, loud enough for Geralt to hear clearly, and it goes straight to Geralt’s cock. 

Geralt wishes he could hear what was whispered, wishes he knew the words that made Jaskier sound like that. He watches, holding his breath, as the stranger drops to his knees on the paving stones, looking up at Jaskier, and licking teasingly at Jaskier’s cock. Geralt can hear Jaskier’s sharp intake of breath, hear the obscene sounds coming from the stranger as he wraps his mouth fully around Jaskier’s cock and sucks. 

Jaskier’s mouth opens in a silent ‘oh,’ his head sinking back against the wall, his hands reaching up and grasping the stranger’s hair loosely. Jaskier lets the other man control the pace for a moment, then Geralt sees the way Jaskier’s stance straightens, his hands fisting in the stranger’s hair, his hips canting up to meet the mouth eagerly swallowing him down. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier rasps, moaning, “but aren’t you good for me.” 

Geralt is completely rapt, his cock hard as a rock; he wouldn’t look away now, not for anything. He watches Jaskier’s hands, the taut line of his body, the way he thrusts his hips up, his cock just barely visible as it pumps into the stranger’s mouth. Geralt can’t help but imagine himself on his knees in front of Jaskier—his knees on the stones, Jaskier’s hands in his hair pulling hard, the harsh press of Jaskier’s hips driving his cock into Geralt’s wanting lips. 

It’s too much, the image paired with the breathy moans coming out of Jaskier’s mouth, with his neck thrown back so wantonly. Geralt tries his best to be quiet as he rips the laces from his pants and pulls himself out, biting back a moan as he starts to stroke himself in rhythm with the motions of Jaskier’s hips. 

Geralt wonders if Jaskier would go onto  _ his  _ knees for Geralt, if he would wrap his clever mouth around Geralt’s cock, if he would moan around it, if he would object when Geralt threaded his hands into Jaskier’s hair and pulled, if he’d let Geralt set the rhythm or if he’d control it with hands grasping at Geralt’s hip bones. Geralt’s arousal is like a fire, coursing through him and fanning the desires he thought he had under control. He wants to close his eyes and grip himself harder and fuck his own hand; he wants to keep his eyes on Jaskier, keep his rhythm matching Jaskier’s, feed the fuel of his imaginings. 

Jaskier groans and Geralt makes a noise to match it, the sound escaping his mouth before he remembers he’s supposed to be quiet, that he’s not supposed to be there. It’s too late though—Jaskier looks around wildly for the source of the noise, and his eyes land immediately on Geralt. 

It should be cowing, it should make him feel shame and nothing else, but instead it just makes Geralt want to moan louder. Jaskier sweeps his eyes over Geralt, taking in his face, his exposed cock as he works it in his hand, watching Geralt watch him. And Jaskier smiles.

He  _ smiles _ , wickedly, and licks his lips. Geralt watches Jaskier’s hands pull tighter in the stranger's hair, as if he somehow knew that Geralt was thinking of that. Jaskier’s hips speed up and he moans fully, his eyes on Geralt’s the entire time. 

“Let me see you touch yourself,” Jaskier says roughly. 

The man under him takes one hand to his own trousers, pulling himself out and beginning to stroke, but Jaskier is still looking at Geralt. Geralt keeps stroking himself, running his fingers through the precum collecting at the tip of his cock, coating the sensitive head with slickness and tugging at it the way he likes. 

“That’s good,” Jaskier says in between thrusts, his voice tinged with desperation. “Oh fuck, you look gorgeous, so good for me.” Jaskier groans and Geralt lets loose his own debauched noises under the cover of Jaskier’s. “Don’t stop, let me see you come, I want to watch you shake.” 

_ Fuck _ . Geralt can hear the other man grunt and spill onto the pave stones, but Jaskier doesn’t lift his eyes from Geralt’s, doesn’t stop his own thrusting, even as it grows erratic. Geralt can hear the way Jaskier’s breath is catching, his control starting to dwindle as he fucks into the man’s mouth, holding him steady as he takes his pleasure. Geralt speeds the motion of his hand to match Jaskier, biting down his groans as the pressure and heat builds. 

“Oh, yes, just like that,” Jaskier says, just above a whisper but loud enough for Geralt to hear, loud enough for it to hit Geralt like an arrow, piercing a hole into his chest. He feels unmoored, lost but for the constant pressure of Jaskier’s eyes. 

Geralt feels himself tensing, and then he’s whispering Jaskier’s name as he comes, spilling across his hand and onto the ground, the heat of it almost bringing him to his knees. 

It’s overwhelming, but he keeps his eyes determinedly open, watching as Jaskier groans deliciously, as his hips stutter and he spends into the man’s mouth. The man on his knees catches most of it, but some drips down his chin. Jaskier wipes it off the man’s face, his eyes still burning a hole through Geralt. Geralt lifts his hand to his lips and licks the cum off his fingers, never breaking eye contact and thrilling as Jaskier shudders. 

Geralt feels his breath hitch in his chest, his desire to run across to Jaskier almost insurmountable. Then again, despite what he wants this to be, what he feels for Jaskier, the entire situation was an accident, and he can’t discount the possibility—the likelihood, even—that Jaskier is going to consider this a titillating incident and nothing more. 

The man starts to rise off his knees and Geralt quickly laces up his pants and tears himself away before he can be seen by the stranger, before he can do something he’ll regret, high off of Jaskier’s eyes and voice. He moves quickly around a corner to wait, the sounds of Jaskier and the stranger ending their tryst loud and clear to his ears no matter how hard he tries not to listen. It isn’t  _ fair,  _ at the most basic level, for Jaskier to be kissing someone else when he spent the last however many minutes staring into Geralt’s eyes as his cock was sucked. 

Geralt waits until he can see Jaskier go into the inn alone, and then follows him inside and up the stairs to their room, closing the door carefully behind him. Jaskier is standing in the middle of the room, looking smug and debauched—his clothing mussed and his eyes still dark with arousal. 

His eyes locked onto Geralt, he waits for Geralt to move into the room and approach him. Geralt walks over immediately, his breath coming unevenly, his heartbeat imperceptibly speeding up. When he’s close enough, Jaskier puts a steady hand on Geralt’s forearm—the touch is nothing they haven’t done before, but now it feels heated, electric. 

There’s a beat where nothing happens, and then Jaskier presses towards him, capturing Geralt’s mouth in a rough kiss, his tongue swiping across Geralt’s lips. Geralt moans, melting into it, but too quickly Jaskier is pulling away. Geralt’s lips are stinging from the kiss, his cock twitching in his trousers, his mind reeling. 

Geralt watches as Jaskier strips off his clothing, down to his small clothes, and climbs into his bed. Geralt can smell sex and sweat and dirt on him, under the normal sweet floral scent of him, and it’s far more enticing than he wishes it was. 

“Is that it?” Geralt asks when Jaskier is in bed, turned away from him. 

“What did you want?” Jaskier asks, turning back to Geralt, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. Geralt, startled by the question, doesn’t reply and Jaskier smirks. “Well, next time I ask you to retire early, say yes.”

Geralt gapes at Jaskier as he turns back around, feeling unfairly aroused. “There’s going to be a next time?” 

He can hear Jaskier’s grin. “Oh, absolutely.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is like my second ever fic that consists of only smut so I am living for anything positive y'all wanna toss my way (@margosfairyeye) !


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